Awakened by the CEO's Kiss

by Therese Beharrie

  “You’re really not going to answer that?”

  “Nope.”

  “At least confirm that I’m the cute guy?”

  “You’re not,” Brooke said. “I was talking about the guy who helped me take my groceries to the car the other day. He even called me ‘ma’am,’ which made me feel old but also made me feel kind of fancy.”

  She twisted her shoulder in an endearing way, and Tyler smiled. How could he be so delighted by her? She drew him in—no, locked him in, really—and he was so enamored that he’d handed her the key.

  “You should stop doing this,” he said, meaning to tease, but his tone was serious.

  “What?”

  “Being...so you.”

  She studied him. “I would be offended if it weren’t for that look on your face. It’s telling me you’re actually complimenting me.”

  “Yeah.” His hand lifted to twirl the ends of her hair around his finger. He stopped when he reached halfway. “Sorry. I...”

  He didn’t finish, and she reached up and caught his hand. “You know what I think would solve a lot of this tension? If we kissed.”

  Dear Reader,

  Over the eighteen books I’ve written, I’ve been open to trying almost every contemporary romance trope. And yet Brooke and Tyler’s story is the first time I’ve explored amnesia. In typical Therese fashion, I complicated the trope, then added some more complications (oops?). So now our hero can’t ask our heroine about their past, which she’s seemingly ignoring; after all, he can’t broach such personal topics with his new boss!

  As with all my romances, expect emotion, banter and, most important, hope. Love is the best way we can remind ourselves of the goodness in the world. I hope this book does that for you!

  Love,

  Therese

  Awakened by the CEO’s Kiss

  Therese Beharrie

  Being an author has always been Therese Beharrie’s dream. But it was only when the corporate world loomed during her final year at university that she realized how soon she wanted that dream to become a reality. So she got serious about her writing and now writes books she wants to see in the world featuring people who look like her for a living. When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with her husband and dogs in Cape Town, South Africa. She admits that this is a perfect life and is grateful for it.

  Books by Therese Beharrie

  Harlequin Romance

  Billionaires for Heiresses

  Second Chance with Her Billionaire

  From Heiress to Mom

  Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

  Surprise Baby, Second Chance

  Her Festive Flirtation

  Island Fling with the Tycoon

  Her Twin Baby Secret

  Marrying His Runaway Heiress

  His Princess by Christmas

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  To my incredible family.

  The love I have for you keeps me hopeful. Thank you for reminding me of the world’s beauty.

  Praise for

  Therese Beharrie

  “Wonderful! Therese Beharrie has a gift for creating real, evocative and hopeful romances that just make you feel happy. I finished this with a smile on my face. Highly recommended.”

  —Goodreads on Her Twin Baby Secret

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt from Billionaire’s Road Trip to Forever by Michelle Douglas

  CHAPTER ONE

  FOR THE SECOND time in his life Tyler Murphy was staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  The first time had been five years ago, at a coffee shop around the corner from the hospital. He had been visiting his sister, who’d just given birth to his nephew, and he had been dealing with some...stuff. Mainly the fact that his mother, who had passed away months before that, wouldn’t get to meet her first grandchild. The woman who had prized family so much wouldn’t get to see hers expand.

  He’d needed some space from the hospital. And there had been Brooke. Standing at the counter, staring at the menu with a dazed look on her face.

  He thought about that day a lot. The days after, too—that week they’d spent together. The sadness that had lurked in her eyes even when she was smiling. How often she would trail off when she spoke, as if she had forgotten what she was saying. She would always beam at him after, especially if he prompted her, and he’d put it down as one of her quirks.

  Those memories were all he had of her. Her first name—only her first name—and his memories. It hadn’t mattered then. He had known she was the type of person who picked up litter when she saw it on the street. Who allowed elderly people ahead of her in a queue. She hoped for a world where people were kinder, less self-centred. She didn’t like intolerance, and she had told him about the times she’d stepped in when she’d witnessed it.

  But her name and his memories hadn’t been enough for him to find her. He’d discovered that at the end of the week when she’d disappeared. They hadn’t shared any information about where they lived, who their families were. They hadn’t even exchanged contact details. It was as if they’d purposely avoided it. As if she had purposely avoided it.

  He might have thought it dramatic if he hadn’t been staring at her now, waiting for her to recognise him.

  He got nothing.

  ‘You’re not Tia Murphy,’ she said, her voice a frustratingly adorable lilt of confusion.

  ‘No, I’m Tyler Murphy.’ Which you already know. But I guess if we’re playing this game... ‘I’ll be helping you out for the next—’

  He didn’t get the chance to continue. Brooke let out a cry as her body bumped against the door. Seconds later, the door opened wider. He didn’t catch what flew past them, but he knew it was some kind of animal.

  ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘Mochi, you come back here right now!’

  She ran down the three steps that led to the front lawn, before bolting towards what Tyler could now see was a dog. He didn’t think she’d expected to chase after a dog. Or maybe she had; he wasn’t proficient in what kind of clothes people who required housekeepers wore.

  Sure, technically, he could be one of those people, but his mother would have killed him. If he’d got a housekeeper now, she’d probably become undead for the sole purpose of killing him.

  And, since he wasn’t ‘one of those people,’ for all he knew Brooke’s silky nightgown and flip-flops were standard attire.

  Watching her running after a dog in that outfit lightened some of the tension he felt, but it couldn’t eradicate it completely. In fact, it complicated things. In the days they’d spent together, he hadn’t once seen this much of her. Now he could add the strength of her arms, the width of her thighs, to what he’d been missing.

  Get it together, Murphy.

  Brooke was now his boss. Indirectly, since he was standing in for his sister. But still... He needed to keep things professional. The situation was precarious enough without the added complication of him knowing Brooke.

  Except... Was she pretendi
ng that week hadn’t happened? Or did she not remember it? He did, because he had never been so attracted to anyone. Not any of the women he’d dated, though there had only been a few over the years. None of them stood out. But he’d thought he and Brooke had shared something. If not physically, emotionally. They had been friends.

  And she didn’t remember that?

  Was he so out of touch that he’d made up their connection?

  He exhaled. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. Especially when the present was providing enough distraction.

  The dog was having the time of its life. It was a collie cross of some kind, with glossy black fur and brown and white paws. It barked at the woman frequently, as if taunting her. It was probably taunting her because it barked every time she paused to take a breath. When she started chasing it again, it zoomed past her, literally running circles around her.

  He wanted to be the better person and help her. And he would. But he’d watch for a while longer before he did. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but it did offer him a measure of satisfaction. As did the steam he was sure he could see coming from her head.

  He walked down the steps, put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

  ‘Mochi,’ he called, lowering to his haunches. ‘Come on over here. Introduce yourself.’

  In no time at all the dog was in front of him, wagging its tail enthusiastically as it licked Tyler’s face and smelled his clothing.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Brooke demanded, walking over to him. ‘I’ve had him for two weeks and never—never—has calling him worked.’

  ‘You need to call with authority,’ Tyler replied absently, smiling when the dog lay on his back for a belly rub. ‘Dogs need to know who the alpha of their pack is. If they think they can take advantage of you, they will.’

  ‘Ah,’ she said, nodding.

  Tyler picked the dog up and tucked him under his arm.

  ‘Well, thank you so much... Tyler, you said your name was?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you, Tyler.’ She took the dog from him. ‘Let’s go inside so you can explain why you’re here and not Tia. Don’t worry,’ she added casually, ‘I’ll be sure to remember my authority during our conversation.’

  Tyler opened his mouth to reply, but she hadn’t waited for one. Good thing. He had no real answer, and if he came up with something on the fly he’d surely put his foot in it again.

  ‘I assume the fact that you share a surname with the person who’s supposed to be here is significant,’ she said, when they were both inside the house.

  She closed the door and put down the dog, which immediately went to Tyler. He didn’t dare look at it.

  ‘Explain.’

  She folded her arms, appearing oblivious to the fact that the movement might, in someone with less self-control, draw attention to her chest. The way her nightgown formed a V at her cleavage, creating soft semi-circles of flesh, might, again, in someone with less self-control, cause desire to shoot straight to a part of the body inappropriate for a professional setting.

  That someone was obviously not him. He had plenty of self-control. Exemplified by how he was focusing on her face, not her cleavage. Focusing on those brown eyes that wore fury and command as though they were cloaks. On the perfectly formed eyebrows, dark like the hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head, highlighting sharp, almost regal cheekbones. On the full lashes that made her the perfect model for mascara, though he knew she hadn’t used any. On the plump pink lips that were currently in a thin line, like a disapproving teacher.

  He had never, not once in his life, had a teacher fantasy, but he was beginning to see the appeal.

  Had he implied that this woman had no authority? No—he’d said it. Foolishly, considering she held his sister’s employment in her hands. Stupidly, considering she wore only nightwear and somehow still had an aura of power coming off her as if it was a particularly potent brand of perfume.

  He was already enthralled, already aroused, and they’d spent all of fifteen minutes together. How the hell was he going to get through a month?

  Distance. Right, yes. Distance and professionalism. Two characteristics he generally displayed without much effort.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Tia Murphy is my sister. Unfortunately, she won’t be able to fulfil this commitment due to unforeseen circumstances.’

  ‘The agency sent you instead?’

  He hesitated. ‘No.’

  ‘Care to elaborate?’

  ‘They...they don’t know.’

  ‘So you’re telling me I have a random man in my house who hasn’t been verified by the agency I’ve already paid?’

  Mochi whined at his feet, as if in warning.

  ‘That’s not how I would phrase it...’ Tyler said carefully.

  ‘How would you phrase it?’ Her voice was dangerously cool. ‘I’m very interested in knowing. I could do with a concise explanation, too, since I have to leave for work in—’ She broke off as her eyes fluttered to the clock on the wall behind him. ‘Crap. I leave in fifteen minutes.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Should I trust a random man in my home while I change?’

  ‘We’ve been alone for a while, and I’ve been perfectly respectable. Plus, your dog trusts me.’

  She studied him. Didn’t at all seemed convinced. She looked at Mochi. ‘Make sure he doesn’t steal anything,’ she instructed, before walking up the stairs without a further word.

  He looked at the dog. ‘I’m not sure she likes me.’

  Mochi only tilted his head.

  * * *

  This was a confusing situation on multiple levels. For one, Brooke Jansen hadn’t expected to be dressed as though she were preparing for a boudoir photo shoot when she met her temporary housekeeper for the first time. But Mochi had woken her up and refused to leave her alone until she gave him something.

  What he’d wanted, she didn’t know. She’d barely managed her morning routine before he’d started barking. Sharp, piercing barks that demanded attention. Then the doorbell had rang, and Mochi had escaped. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been planning it since he’d woken her up.

  The second thing was the man she’d found on her doorstep. She had been...surprised. It wasn’t that she thought he couldn’t be a housekeeper. Her brain had just taken a moment to reconcile his sheer physical size with what the job required. He looked more suited to doing something that required strength. Like carrying heavy items from one place to another.

  For a brief moment she considered how many tasks she could find that would allow him to do that. And would allow her to watch.

  Very quickly after that thought she gathered her wits. After chiding them for their inappropriate behaviour, she realised he wasn’t meant to be here.

  Which brought her to a third confusing aspect: he wasn’t meant to be here.

  That was something she needed to sort out. Honestly, she was annoyed. She had hired a housekeeper to help her since her focus was almost entirely on work these days. She didn’t need a housekeeper to add to her problems. Especially a sexy housekeeper.

  Sexy? She had entertained, however briefly, the idea of watching him work, but sexy?

  What was going on? She hadn’t cared about any of that since Kian had died. She wasn’t even sure she cared now.

  Except she might care. Why else was she wearing a top that made her breasts look appealing under a stylish blazer, with jeans that did impressive things for her butt? And why was she now slipping on a pair of heels, putting on more accessories than she had in months, doing elaborate make-up? Her hair was due for a wash, so the best she could do was put it back into the bun, forcing any stray pieces into place with gel.

  But that was all she was doing.

  The bare minimum, really.

  Ignoring any thoughts to the contrary, she made her way downstairs. The smell
of coffee hit her first, before she realised Tyler wasn’t in the hall where she’d left him. She hadn’t really expected him to stay there. Though the fact that she was surprised he wasn’t there now proved otherwise.

  Her eyes swept over the house. Nothing seemed out of place, which was a positive. She wouldn’t have been impressed with herself if she’d let a criminal into her home. Less so if she’d been attracted to the criminal.

  Not that she was attracted to him. She could objectively notice a man’s attractiveness without being attracted to him.

  Her thoughts stalled when she saw Tyler in the kitchen though. Her heart skipped and time... Well, it did what time always did. It moved on. So slowly that she could hear every tick of the clock, as if it were trying to tell her something.

  But that couldn’t possibly be. What would it have to tell her? And why was that question more important than all the others she had? About Tyler looking as if he belonged in her kitchen as much as he did carrying very heavy things from one place to the next.

  ‘I made coffee. It’s in a takeaway cup.’ He nodded his head to the kitchen table. ‘With a toasted cheese sandwich you can have for breakfast.’ He studied her. ‘I assume you haven’t had breakfast?’

  A restless sensation slithered up her spine, sliding its hands over her shoulders and settling over her heart. She didn’t know how much of it was surprise and how much of it was concern. She hadn’t had someone take care of her this way in the longest time. Her brother was a constant presence in her life, and he would have, certainly, if she let him. But she rarely did. Accepting the dog he’d given her because he was worried about her had been a concession because she knew that. Now there was a stranger doing things for her. Was she supposed to accept it?

  ‘You’re overthinking things,’ he told her, his tone curt. ‘I’m here to do a job. This is part of it.’

  ‘Except this isn’t your job, is it? You’re standing in for your sister.’

  ‘She and I have the same skills.’